


If you love me right (we fuck for life)

by BansheeLydia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alive Allison Argent, College Student Stiles, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Frottage, Future Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sparring, Stiles is Legal, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6536593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not a kid,” Stiles muttered, but he eyed the doorway anyway.  His stomach swooped at the idea of training with Chris, of being that close to him, one or one and alone in the house</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you love me right (we fuck for life)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/gifts).



> In this fic, Stiles is 20 and a college student. 
> 
> This is all Inell's fault, who waved her pom poms and encouraged me to have a go at writing Chris/Stiles <3 
> 
> Title from Tove Lo's 'Talking Body'.

Stiles woke with an itch under his skin. 

He rolled onto his back, staring up at his ceiling. It wasn’t new, this feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, this urge to just run so the bad memories couldn’t catch up. He hadn’t felt it in a while, though; being back from college for the summer before his final year and around his pack and friends had helped a lot. So had training with Allison.

It had been his own suggestion the summer prior, wanting to learn to defend himself. Allison had easily agreed and they’d been training ever since when they could, mostly when they were both back home from college. The exercise and focus helped burn away that itch, the knowledge that he was learning to fight back easing some of that dread. It was a kind of distraction technique, but it was the best solution he’d found so far to chase away the worse memories when they reared their head.

He rolled out of bed, glancing out of the window as he gathered clothes from his floor. It was sunny out, birds chirping, and he could see his neighbor mowing his front lawn. Sometimes it was weird to see the town so normal, to watch ordinary people do ordinary things like buying groceries or taking the dog for a walk. It seemed so at odds with the stuff Stiles and his friends had seen, had fought, had lost loved ones to.

He took a shower – brief, since he’d need to shower again after, but he figured Allison wouldn’t want to get up in his business when he was unshowered and a little gross – and brushed his teeth before dressing in a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt. His dad had already left for work, so Stiles just grabbed his keys and headed out.

Roscoe had finally bit the dust a few days after his twentieth birthday after a collision with a troll, so he’d invested in a boxy orange Volvo that Scott had helped him fix up. He still missed his jeep as he navigated the roads through town and parked across the road from the Argent house. 

Allison’s car wasn’t on the drive and Stiles’ heart sank a little. He _really_ needed the workout today. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, knee bouncing up and down, before figuring he’d knock anyway. Sometimes Allison parked in the garage, so she could be home. He climbed out, locked up, and crossed the street. 

He couldn’t help but eye Chris’ car in the driveway as he headed up the steps to the front door. Generally, Allison’s dad wasn’t around when they trained; he was either out or holed up in his office. Occasionally, Stiles had seen him on his way in or out, or when grabbing some water from the kitchen, and it always set off butterflies in his stomach that he tried to ignore.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door and rang the doorbell for good measure. A few minutes passed and there was no movement on the other side of the door, so he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to jog back to his car.

He’d barely got one foot on the step when he heard the door finally open. He glanced over his shoulder and almost tripped down the steps, catching his balance at the last second.

Chris leaned against the doorway. He’d obviously just been working out, dressed in sweatpants riding low on his hips and a thin grey shirt that was darkened by sweat around the collar, clinging to a defined chest and biceps. Earbuds were loose around his neck and his skin gleamed slightly with sweat. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and Stiles swallowed, mouth completely dry. “Stiles,” he greeted.

“Hey, uh, Mr Argent.” Stiles slowly stepped back up onto the porch, tapping his fingers against his thighs. “I was wondering if Allison was in?”

He shook his head. “She’s out. She said something about shopping with Lydia.”

Stiles had kind of expected it, but he still felt his shoulders sag. “Right,” he said. “It’s just...we kind of train together sometimes and...”

“I know.”

He looked up, nodding slightly. “Right,” he said again. “Well...thanks.” He lifted his hand in an awkward wave and stepped back.

Chris gave a casual shrug. “You can train with me.” 

“Huh?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You coming in or not, kid?”

“I’m not a kid,” Stiles muttered, but he eyed the doorway anyway. His stomach swooped at the idea of training with Chris, of being that close to him, one or one and alone in the house.

He cleared his throat and stepped past Chris, into the house. The older man gave a grunt that almost sounded amused, closing the door.

“Believe me,” he said. “I know.”

Stiles didn’t know how to answer that, so instead replied, “Thanks for training with me.”

“I was working out anyway. Besides, from what I’ve heard, you could use all the help you can get. A bat won’t keep you alive forever, Stilinski.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out childishly at that because maybe a bat wasn’t the most graceful defence technique compared with Allison and her arrows, or Scott and Derek and their almost fluid method of fighting, or even Lydia with her banshee scream. But it had got him out of some sticky situations and had done him well. Though Chris did have a point. Knowing some hand to hand defence skills could only benefit him.

Chris rolled his eyes and gestured down the hall. “Go ahead.”

Stiles headed down the hall and turned right, into the small gym. Sometimes he was kind of in awe of Allison’s place, how big it was and the fact that she had her own personal gym. He’d probably be more likely to install a home theatre than a gym if he had money, but still. It was kinda impressive.

The weights had obviously been used and Stiles quickly had to banish the mental image of Chris lifting weights before he said or did something embarrassing. Chris closed the door and removed his earbuds and iPod, setting both aside before stepping towards the mats in the middle of the room. Stiles pushed his nerves aside, following.

Training with Chris was different to training with Allison. Allison guided him through different moves, demonstrating before helping him perfect it. Chris tended to show Stiles’ weak spots by knocking him on his ass before reminding him to keep his guard up, to step back out of range when necessary, to follow through with his attacks. 

More often than not, Stiles ended up on his back, pinned, but he got a couple of shots in himself that he was pretty proud of. Getting in _any_ kind of shot against a seasoned hunter that had been training to fight before Stiles was even born was a pretty big deal for him.

He lost track of time, but he was sweating and getting tired when he managed to block a blow and knock Chris’ leg out from beneath him, sending him to the ground. He followed quickly, pinning Chris’ hips down with his legs and his wrists with his hands.

“Gotcha, old man,” he grinned, smug.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Great, kid. Don’t get cocky.” 

Stiles sat back slightly, surprised. “Holy shit, was that a _Star Wars_ reference? Dude, you’re totally a -.”

Chris took advantage of Stiles being caught off guard, flipping them easily so he had Stiles pinned. He kept him down with a strong arm across his chest, hips pressed against Stiles’, and Stiles felt his heart rocket into his throat at the sensation of the firm, heavy body pinning him down.

Chris’ smirk slowly faded as cool blue eyes met Stiles’ gaze, searching them for a moment. Stiles could feel his body reacting, lips parting in a slow exhale.

“Chris,” he murmured, licking his lips.

The older man’s gaze dropped to his mouth, expression so intense for a second that Stiles almost surged up to kiss him. But then Chris pulled back slightly, expression shuttering.

“This is a bad idea, kid,” he said, voice gruff.

Stiles hummed. “Why? I mean, first of all, I’m not a _kid_. I’m twenty.”

“I’m not a good person. I’d be bad for you.”

“Have you considered that maybe _I_ ’d be bad for _you_?” Stiles pointed out. “Have you considered that we could be _awesome_ for each other? Shit, Chris, we’ve both faced some pretty fucking dark things. How we dealt with that, our actions and what we’ve done for the people we love, doesn’t make us bad people. Don’t we deserve something good? Something for just us? This...this could be really great.”

Chris’ hips shifted, just slightly, almost involuntarily and his gaze darkened at Stiles’ responding moan. “It’d be better than really great.”

Stiles huffed out a laugh. “Not exactly what I meant, but I like your thinking.” He glanced at Chris’ arm. Stiles had never had an _arm kink_ before, but the blatant strength of it, the veins, the dusting of sandy hair... “Fuck, you’re hot,” he muttered, lifting a hand to trail his fingertips over Chris’ arm.

His hips shifted again, but he muttered, “You’re younger than my daughter, Stiles.”

“By a year and it’s kind of insignificant when I’m twenty,” Stiles pointed out. “Besides, you’re kinda hot for a man your age.”

Chris snorted slightly. “You’re such a little shit,” he muttered.

And then he leaned down, slanting his lips over Stiles’. 

His lips were surprisingly soft and Stiles knew his own were kind of chapped, but Chris didn’t seem to care, just kissed him slow and deep until Stiles was desperate for more. He tugged at Chris’ hair, rolling his hips up, and was rewarded with a little moan that had his cock twitching in his pants. 

Stiles gripped Chris’ wrist, slowly rolling them until he was on top again. Chris’ lips were slightly wet and parted and Stiles ached with the urge to kiss him again, but he moved his mouth to the hunter’s neck instead. He mouthed at the vulnerable skin there, rocking his hips, and he groaned when Chris gripped his ass, squeezing slightly as he rolled up against him in a smooth, practiced move. Stiles could get off just on grinding against him, but he pulled himself together enough to slide a hand beneath the waistband of Chris’ sweatpants. He was going commando and they both moaned when his fingertips brushed over hot, hard flesh. 

“God, you feel so good,” he breathed. He wet his hand with his tongue and touched him again, sucking at Chris’ neck as he stroked his cock. 

“Fuck,” Chris grunted, leaning his head back. He looked so beautiful, neck arched and muscles straining as he fucked up into Stiles’ fist. 

Stiles twisted his wrist slightly on the upstroke, unable to help his smug grin as Chris bucked up, a loud moan falling past his lips. It didn’t take much longer for Chris to come, a wrecked groan catching in his throat as he gripped Stiles’ ass and strained up, hot come spilling over Stiles’ hand.

Stiles stroked him through it, then pulled back, wiping his hand clean on Chris’ sweatpants. They were kind of messy anyway and so were his own, a damp spot on the front giving away just how turned on he was. Chris barely caught his breath before he spread Stiles’ legs just wide enough to slot his own between them, pressing his thigh up.

He gripped Stiles’ ass tight, encouraging him to move his hips, grinding against his thigh. Stiles moved with him, panting against Chris’ neck, whining slightly as the slow, hot friction worked him up, orgasm building fast. Chris turned his head just slightly, teeth scraping over the sensitive spot on Stiles’ neck, and he came with a punched out moan in his pants, nails digging into Chris’ biceps.

“Fuck,” he panted, slowly going still and just lying on top of Chris. 

“Maybe next time,” Chris muttered, nose skimming over Stiles’ jaw before he kissed him.

“I need to borrow some pants,” Stiles mumbled.

There was a little pat against his ass that had him wriggling with a grin. He just lay there for a few moments, blissed out and comfy, until the sticky mess in his sweatpants started to get kind of gross.

He rolled off Chris, turning his head to look at him. “So, uh...we’re not telling Allison about this, right?”

He was answered by a snort and Chris wrapping an arm around him to drag him closer in an embrace. “Yeah, definitely not.”

**Author's Note:**

> allirica.tumblr.com - feel free to send a prompt or come say hi :)


End file.
